


Bite Me, Bitch

by Luxis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A ton of irony because Harry is oblivious, Auror Harry, Dark Lord Tom, Fluff and Humor, Forced Animagus Tom, Identity Porn, Irony, Multi, Pining Harry, Secret Identities, of course, will Harry talk about liking Tom Riddle in front of doggie!tom?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxis/pseuds/Luxis
Summary: When Tom Riddle goes missing, Auror Harry gets caught up in investigating the disappearance of his former Hogwarts crush. To top it all off, his recently acquired dog has been acting up lately.Meanwhile, Tom is enjoying life as a dog far too much... especially since it means getting to toy with a dumbass Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 177
Kudos: 1113
Collections: All-Time Favorite Works





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maquira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maquira/gifts).



> This is a gift to maquira, my favorite zootopia fanatic and closeted furry (heh heh). But all jokes aside, she's truly one of my best friends. Last year was made so much more bearable with her fun friendship, and I'm grateful that she's still here for me through my seven-month writer's block. (she beta'ed the HELL out of this. god, it's so much better with her)
> 
> Speaking of which. Ohhhhh man. This is also one of my attempts to get back into writing/posting. People awaiting on Eternal Hilarity and Where Our Worlds Meet... you hopefully won't need to wait much longer. I think.

_THUD._

Harry woke up, his heart pounding. His hands clutched at the sweat-soaked sheets beneath him as yet another violent sound echoed from downstairs. 

_SCREEEE—_

“ _Fuck it!_ ” Harry growled, his voice raspy from sleepiness as he ripped the sheets off himself. He got out of bed and lit the tip of his wand, stomping through the creaky hallways to see what the _hell_ was going on at four in the morning. Because even though Grimmauld Place was old, it wasn’t quite old enough to justify the sounds that were coming from downsta—

_THUD. SCREEE—_

And there it was again, this time accompanied by the same scratching noise. 

Frustration turned into something closer to fear. With his heart pounding furiously, Harry quickly made his way to the bottom floor. He clenched his wand tightly in hand as he surveyed the dimly-lit living room, Auror senses on full alert. There was nothing there, and further inspection of the other first floor rooms yielded no suspicious activity as well.

_THUD._

This time, Harry managed to successfully pin down the source of the commotion. It seemed to be coming from outside the… front door? That was odd. Nothing should have been able to get past the Black wards. 

"Hello?" he called cautiously through the door after casting a few detection spells. 

Silence met his greeting.

Harry scoffed under his breath. Of course, now of all times, the mysterious infiltrator decided to stay quiet.

“Well, good bye then,” he muttered sarcastically, turning back around. “Please don’t come back.”

He was answered by a loud bark, followed by several short yaps. 

Harry froze, mind racing.

Maybe Sirius had gotten stuck in dog form again. The last time that happened, Harry had been forced to call his parents over to revert him back. They were in France for Lily's Healer work, and they'd been quite exasperated by the interruption. 

But, _wait._ Harry paused near the front door, frowning contemplatively. Sirius was vacationing in Romania with Remus. 

So what was a dog here? 

The barking and scratching resumed. Curiosity got the better of Harry, and he hesitantly opened the door… only to be met with the sight of a jaw-droppingly large Doberman. 

Lean muscles rippled below a thick coat of pitch-black fur, drawn taut as though the dog was preparing for attack. The beast’s head reached just below Harry’s chest, his ears upright and giving the illusion of constant alertness — or, as his mentor Auror had once put it, _constant vigilance._

But the creature’s most striking feature was its _eyes._ Abyss-black, deep and eerily knowing. Their intelligent gleam forcibly reminded him of Sirius… but also of _someone else._

Harry couldn’t look away. The dog maintained eye contact with him, opening its jaw ever so slightly. For a split second, he could have sworn the dog was about to _speak_ to him, however foolish the notion was.

But what came out of the dog’s mouth was an unintelligible stream of growls and yaps, breaking the strange illusion of familiarity. And then then creature’s face pinched into something priceless — an irritable expression not unlike the one Sirius wore whenever Remus kicked him out for doing something spectacularly stupid. 

Harry was immediately in love. 

"Why hello there, big boy!" Harry exclaimed happily, all wariness forgotten as he leaned down to engulf the dog in a tight hug. "Where's your owner, sweetie?" 

The dog snarled and snapped at Harry, clearly unimpressed with the manhandling. 

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized hastily, stepping back hastily to give the creature some space. "I don't see anyone nearby, so I'm going to assume you're here on your own. Are you lost?" 

The dog made an angry biting motion again. Its silken jowls were bared in a ferocious snarl, revealing terrifyingly sharp teeth.

"Right. Dogs can't talk, my bad.” _Normal dogs_ can’t _,_ anyways. Spending time with Padfoot had ruined all standards of normality for him. “Do you mind if I take you inside?" 

Another growl. 

"Sounds good!" Harry said, knowing full well he sounded crazy for talking to a literal dog. "I'm going to bring you inside. It sure gets cold during these summer nights, huh?” He held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, hoping to appease the guarded creature. “Please don't get mad at me." 

Ten minutes later, he had the dog situated in the living room. His hands were littered with scratches and his pajama pants had been cleanly bitten through at the cuff. But despite getting his hair rumpled and glasses askew from chasing the dog around, he was beaming.

Harry had spent so many years living alone in Grimmauld Place, perfectly content in his solitude; he hadn’t even realized how decrepit and sad his place was, nor how much he actually craved… _company,_ until it turned up at his door.

"Merlin! You sure are a feisty one, aren't you?" He said with a fond grin, still slightly out of breath from dodging the dog's bites. 

The dog growled for the thousandth time and promptly bit another hole through Harry's pants. Molly was going to _kill_ Harry for ruining this pair— she had only just redone his wardrobe.

"Ha!" He chuckled weakly, mildly distracted by the dog's painful hold on his leg. "What a boisterous young boy! I ought to name you Buster or someth— _ow_!" 

The dog had punctured Harry's shoes with a well-aimed bite. Harry crossly hoped that the dog would taste dirtied rubber for days.

"Oi! Stop that!" Harry cried indignantly. "Oh, you know what? Keep this up and I'll give you a stupid name. Like Fluffy." 

That earned another ferocious bark. 

"Look here. I'm trying to be nice, okay? It's like you're trying your hardest to piss me off. Merlin, you're worse than Riddle." 

At this, the dog froze in mid-lunge, his eyes comically large. But Harry paid no attention, his mind now completely turning to the bane of his Hogwarts existence.

“Ah, well, that was rude of me.” Harry’s mouth curled unpleasantly. “You’re certainly far better than him — not that Riddle isn’t perfectly lovely.” He snorted to himself. “Well, once you get past his homicidal tendencies as a schoolboy, that is.”

Harry sat in silence, stewing over the former Slytherin Head Boy. Even after leaving Hogwarts and becoming a full-fledged Auror, the man remained a sore spot of his.

“Stupid snake,” Harry muttered.

The dog, which had been shockingly quiet for the past few moments, began to growl louder than ever. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say that the dog was barking the canine equivalent of cuss words. And as his eyes caught on the black, curling lock upon the dog’s head, inspiration struck. 

"I ought to name you Tom," Harry grumbled. "That'd suit your personality perfectly." 

More barking of the furious, viciously wild strain. Harry raised his eyebrows at it. _Such disobedience…_ he’d have to train _that_ out at some point.

Because while this dog seemed like the bully type, Harry was no pushover. 

"All right, Tom it is!” Harry declared cheerily, clapping his hands together. “I christen thee Tom Marvolo Riddle, named after the biggest asshole I ever knew,” Harry paused dramatically, for effect. “May you bring honor to his tainted name.”

Never had Harry seen an animal look so completely, utterly furious. 

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~ 

Tom Riddle was ready to commit murder. 

Well, that was how he generally felt all the time, but he was currently seething with _especially_ lethal fury at the ignominy and humiliation of his current situation. 

He'd been minding his own business, pursuing world domination via his Death Eater (DE) circle and plotting the creation of his first Horcrux when _Albus Dumbledore happened._

The wizard had materialized directly inside the anti-apparition wards that Carrow had constructed only earlier that week. In retrospect, perhaps entrusting Carrow with such a crucial task hadn't been very wise.

While Riddle had been somewhat distracted with thinking of a proper punishment for his Death Eater (the _Cruciatus_ or… well, that was about it, really, unless he was looking to cut down his ranks), Dumbledore had begun to cast a myriad of spells. Tom had put up a wandless shield and half-heartedly dodged the first few, preparing draw his wand out and return the favor twice as _hard_ when—

A flurry of light had broken through his shield and caught on his thigh, blasting him back. It had taken less than a second for the spell to take effect. And by the end of it,Tom found himself neither human nor dead… but something far worse.

A dog.

Perhaps Dumbledore was right after all. There were far worse things than death, and this was his former Transfiguration professor’s way of teaching Tom that very lesson.

Immediately after You Know What, Tom attempted to summon his magic for a wandless reversal spell. But much to his alarm, he couldn't access his magic. 

So not only had he become a dog — he’d lost his magic in the process.

This realization nearly lost him a tooth. In his rage, Tom resorted to ripping up pillows with his teeth until his murderous craze had simmered to a cold, calculated sort of determination.

Yes, he _would_ destroy Albus Dumbledore once and for all. 

… As soon as he figured out how to turn back into a human. What on earth had the old man cursed him with?

More concerningly, Tom had been in the middle of a solo mission when attacked. Meaning that none of his Death Eaters knew where he was. Secrecy may have been key, but it consequently meant there would be no salvation for him. 

In this animal form, he was at the mercy of all that he came across. Even Muggles would find him as easy prey.

How far the mighty Lord Voldemort had fallen. 

Perhaps it was a good thing his followers didn’t know this had occurred. Tom would get past this shameful ordeal and never speak of it again.

And so, with that resolution in mind, he quickly regained his canine composure. A quick mental assessment of his situation deemed that he'd first have to find a shelter before deciding upon anything else. 

So, Tom trotted— _walked_ — briskly towards the nearest wizarding society, strategizing for his future travels. He needed to find a sympathetic wizard as soon as possible, and it wouldn't do to simply go to the general Diagon Alley area where he could be hexed by a drunken bargoer. 

Who in Greater London would be foolhardy enough to take in an unknown, clearly magical dog? And in answer to his unspoken question, his subconscious raised the hazy image of a green-eyed dumbass. 

Harry Potter.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~~ 

"C'mere, Tom! Ooh, you cute little thing, why don't you come give me a kiss? Just one? No? Aw-- ouch!" 

Tom was still warming up to Harry, and life with Tom truly wasn't easy. The magnificent Doberman was pissy on good days and downright murderous on others. It didn't help that Harry was kept busy by his hectic life as an Auror. 

He had been so preoccupied with work that he'd neglected to inform Ron and Hermione of his new…friend. 

So when Hermione and Ron dropped by Grimmauld Place for their usual Friday evening meetup with Harry, they were very much alarmed by the formidable, growling beast of a dog. Harry had to physically stop Ron from blasting a stunning spell at Tom. 

"Harry, what were you thinking?" Hermione sighed once Harry finished explaining. 

"Well, I couldn't exactly leave him out on the streets, could I?” Harry frowned, crossing his arms defensively. 

"Yes you bloody well could have," Ron muttered mutinously, cradling his still-throbbing hand from where Tom had bit him. He narrowed his eyes with no small amount of wariness, continuing to stare at the thing that would have happily chewed his hand off without Harry’s intervention. 

When Harry only stared reproachfully back at him, Ron tried again. “Look, that nasty mutt could be a spy, a human in disguise for all you know. Remember Skeeter?" 

At this, Hermione glanced up in alarm. "Ron's right. Did you even use the Animagus detection spell?" 

Harry's guilty expression said it all. 

"What kind of Auror are you?" She scolded, rolling up her sleeves as she pulled out her wand. Tom looked strangely skittish, but Harry wrote that off as an animal's natural reaction to seeing a wand. 

Hermione spent the next several minutes casting a variety of animagus detection and reversal spells, but all to no avail. It seemed that Tom really was a dog. 

"Well, what do we do now?" Hermione said at last. 

"I say we boot the dog out and send it on its merry way." 

"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that Harry should find someone else to take the poor thing in." 

Meanwhile, "The Poor Thing" attempted to maul Hermione's handbag. 

"What, you think I can't take care of him?" Harry demanded. 

"Yes," Hermione and Ron answered in unison. 

"But why?" 

"Harry, you live alone and you're out of the house around the clock for Auror work," Hermione elaborated exasperatedly. "He needs to be taken care of while you're gone." 

"It's been working fine so far, and he has a _name_ ," Harry replied stubbornly. 

"Oh? What'd you call him?" 

"Tom, obviously." 

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Harry, you named him after Tom Riddle? You mean the— " 

"— horrid Slytherin a few years above us?" Ron finished, looking equally aghast. 

"Uh, about that," Harry muttered, frantically trying to come up with an explanation that didn't incriminate him further. "Er, the dog kind of looks like a Tom? And he almost looks like the Tom we know. You know, their grumpy expressions, black curls, and whatnot." 

Ron shot Harry an uncannily shrewd look. "You sure it's not because you had a crush on that wanker of a—“ 

Harry clapped a hand over Ron's mouth, eyes darting frantically around the room as though Tom Riddle himself would manifest behind them and Avada Kedavra them. 

“Shut up, Ron,” Harry hissed before getting a hold of himself, removing his hand to casually brush off imaginary lint from his robes. “Yeah, I don’t know what you mean by _crush—_ ”

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sympathetically, placing a hand on his arm. "I thought you'd gotten over him." 

"Gotten over him? I have no clue what you're talking about." Harry could feel his cheeks burning, his body fighting against his own words as he crossed his arms defensively. “There’s nothing _to get over!_ ” 

He stared determinately at the floor, trying to avoid Hermione and Ron's painfully understanding gazes. Godric, even the dog seemed to be staring at him. 

"Harry." 

"Can we please stop talking about this?" 

“It's all right to have a schoolboy infatuation with Tom, you know," Hermione said over Ron’s outraged sounds of disagreement.

"I told you, I'm over it," insisted Harry, lying straight through his teeth. 

"If you ever feel down about these things, you can always talk to Ginny," Ron offered hopefully. 

"No," Harry snapped automatically, before catching himself and sighing tiredly. "Ron, I love Ginny as a sister, and that's all it'll ever be." 

There was a long pause before Ron shrugged half-heartedly and made to turn away. 

"Oh come on," Hermione said abruptly. "Ron, let it go. We've been over this before. And oh, would you look at that. It’s time to watch the movie we came over for." 

Harry gave her a grateful smile. They went over to his living room and just like that, the issue was dropped. But Harry knew the situation regarding Tom, though, was far from being resolved. 

Merlin, he really needed a drink or a distraction. Or both. 

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~ 

That distraction, unfortunately, came in the form of Head Auror Robards the next day. 

"Auror Potter, Weasley, I need you to stay late and help with some additional cases." 

Ah, yes. The joys of Monday mornings. Robards' tone clearly brooked no argument, not that it stopped Ron from complaining anyways. 

"But sir, you've already tasked us with the DE mafia--" 

"No buts, Weasley. It'll be just a few extra cases, and small ones to boot." 

With that, Robards strode out of their office. Once Robards was out of earshot, Ron heaved a mighty sigh and stared morosely down at the newly-deposited stack of papers. 

“D'you think he'll let us give these to Cho and Padma? Hermione's going to kill me if I miss dinner because of work again," Ron groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"They're busy with the Gibbons investigation, Ron. And from the looks of it, the cases Robards gave us seem to be pretty easy to handle," Harry noted as he flipped through the pile. 

"Easy to handle? _Easy_? Harry, these are missing persons files!" Ron cried incredulously. 

Harry hummed distractedly as he continued reading. 

"Remember the last time this happened? The missing persons turned out to be part of a trafficking scheme! And don't get me started on what we already have to do. Do you know how time consuming it'll be to hunt down the mafia? Months! Years! _Decades_! And— Harry, are you even listening to me?" 

"You're absolutely right,” Harry said absentmindedly without looking up. 

Ron threw his hands up in exasperation. "If you're listening, nod once." 

"Absolutely,” Harry mumbled while flipping the page.

"How's your day going?" 

"Yes." 

"How old are you?" 

"Of course." 

"Are you gay for Gilderoy Lockhart?" 

"Certainl— _what the hell_?" 

"Oh, so now you listen. Since you're so bloody high up in that cloud of yours, how about you do all these cases tonight? I sure won't be staying late," Ron huffed as he stormed away. Harry only stared after him before shrugging half-heartedly and returning to their casework. 

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully. Harry went through some absurd civilian complaints and toiled the afternoon away by reviewing clues about the mysterious DE circle. It was well past standard work hours when he finally got to the missing persons cases, which were mercifully only the most recent ones from earlier this year. 

Janice Pzietski…………................ Reported Missing 02/10/1982 

Aurelia Betelguese Smith…......… Reported Missing 10/09/1982 

Lysander Quirrel……………......… Reported Missing 08/12/1982 

Thomas Marvolo Riddle…...…..... Reported Missing 08/28/1982 

Maquira Sotwin……………....….... Reported Missing 04/22/1982 

Ava Sotwin……………………...….. Reported Missing 04/22/1982 

_Wait, what?_

Harry hastily flipped back through the papers. Thomas Marvolo Riddle? Had he really read that correctly? He hastily flipped through the file, his eyes growing wider and wider by the second. 

It turned out that Riddle —the very same one upperclassmen who'd frequented Harry's nighttime fantasies— had vanished just weeks ago. He was last seen near some obscure, rocky seaside far off in the country several weeks prior, but other than that, he'd been unofficially missing for quite a while. Albus Dumbledore, of all people, was the one to file the missing persons report. 

Harry's heart thudded as he looked over the file again. Suddenly, he didn't feel so sleepy anymore. Although Riddle was nearly five years above Harry at Hogwarts, even Harry knew that Riddle wasn't some foolhardy person who'd simply get lost. He couldn't easily see Riddle as the victim of kidnapping either, because the Slytherin was far too intelligent and cunning for either extreme. How had Riddle disappeared, anyways? 

Harry was certain of at least one thing, though. He'd find Tom Riddle if it was the last thing he ever did, and that wasn't his supposed crush on Riddle speaking. No, it was a matter of justice. Totally.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~~ 

Back in the Scottish Highlands, a certain wizened Headmaster chuckled delightedly. 

_Who knew things would turn out so well?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edits made on 4/25]

Despite Harry’s eagerness to start on Tom Riddle’s Missing Persons case, the ongoing, time-consuming DE mafia investigation took precedence. The mafia had been acting up lately, and with all the terrorist attacks they’d been launching, they were starting to pose an increasingly dangerous threat to national security.

The _Riddle Rescue_ would have to wait, Harry thought with amusement, feeling rather pleased with the witty moniker he’d come up with. It wasn’t long before his pleasure was rapidly dulled by a pang of helpless annoyance; once again, he’d allowed the former Slytherin to consume his thoughts.

Ron, meanwhile, was less amused by their current situation. In fact, he was quite upset with the lack of progress they had made on their current case. 

“Merlin!” Ron had once cried, slapping the desk in front of himself one bland and unproductive afternoon. “We don’t even know what the initials are D.E. stand for!”

Harry had hummed in response, his mouth twisting in thought. Indeed, it had taken the entire Auror Force a full four months to discover those initials in the first place. Between the secretive DE circle and Robards's ever-growing workload assignments, he was willing to bet that Ron would either blow a fuse or quit the Auror altogether by the end of the year. 

But never mind that; Harry still had more important matters at hand. Namely, ones concerning his new pet dog. 

Tom had only recently begun tolerating Harry. Admittedly, even "tolerating" was a bit of a stretch, but Harry was happy with the progress anyways. Now, he could ambush Tom with surprise cuddles without fear of his balls getting bitten off. 

"Tom? _Tommmm_? Where's my favorite doggie?" Harry called out brightly as he exited the Floo after a long work day. Tom, predictably, didn't answer. "I promise to stop calling you doggie if you give me a hug!" 

At this, Tom poked his snout out from behind a countertop. He eyed Harry warily, probably still resentful about Harry's impromptu cooing session from yesterday. 

"Why hello there. How was your day? Were you bored being here all alone?” Harry came towards the dog, his arms spreading widely when he stopped in his tracks. 

He blinked, looking at his own outstretched arms. 

He’d been quite affectionate lately… oddly affectionate, considering his usual demeanor. Of course, he was open and emotionally close with Ron, Hermione, Sirius, _his own parents…_

But if there was one thing certain about Harry, it was that he’d never been one for physical affection. Even from a young age.

And something about this dog was changing that part of him.

Harry cleared his throat, standing up. He ran a hand through his hair before continuing to talk to the dog about his day. “I keep trying to get the shorter tasks, but Robards likes sending me out on the field. It's part of being an Auror, I guess." 

Tom fixed Harry with a scornful glare. Harry remembered reading somewhere that dogs had eyebrow muscles; indeed, Tom’s haughty look of disapproval certainly proved so. The sardonic arch of those doggy eyebrows had more attitude in them than a David Bowie song. 

"Aw, don't be like that. I tried to come home early, you know. Did you miss me?"

When Harry's hopeful tone was met with another doggy deadpan, he tried again. "Okay, okay, I get it. I guess you don't love me after all," Harry sighed, peeking over his shoulder to see if Tom would react. 

He had a sudden thought. What if he pretended to collapse? Surely Tom would stop ignoring him then. So in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he threw himself onto the floor with a painful _thump_ and awaited Tom's response. 

When almost a minute passed and nothing happened, Harry cracked open an eye to glance at Tom. What he saw made him gasp indignantly. 

Tom sat complacently, unconcernedly licking his nether regions. 

"Are you _kidding_ me? I could've been dead and you just _lick your balls_?" 

Tom snorted in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Even Harry couldn't maintain his pretend outrage. 

They spent the next hour playing a game of tag. Even if Harry was "It" throughout the entire game and consequently got bitten several times, he was still elated that Tom deigned to play with him. And to escape Tom’s overenthusiastic bites, he ended up perched atop the couch, looking like some ridiculously underfeathered bird of prey. 

"Tom! You're not allowed to get on the— _ouch_ , Merlin, we're just playing, stop clawing me--" 

Nothing could stop Tom, furniture be damned. And most unfortunately, his next bite landed on Harry’s thigh. 

Harry hissed in pain, gritting his teeth. “Fuckkk, god _damnit_ Tom,” he bit out viciously, roughly shoving the dog off him. He gave the dog a stern glare, hoping the creature would somehow get the message and back the fuck off.

But the dog wouldn’t budge. Dark, knowing eyes gleamed down at him before a muzzle was nosing down Harry’s pants, licking the already wet spot where he’d chewed Harry’s thigh.

Harry froze, a shiver of something warm and uncomfortable traveling down his spine.

Then he sighed, rolling his eyes upwards. _Ah,_ so his intelligent dog fancied himself a Healer now. 

“Sorry, Tom, but I’m pretty sure dog saliva doesn’t have the same healing properties as phoenix tears.” Harry firmly pushed the dog off again, this time succeeding. He sat up, quietly muttering all the relevant healing spells he knew and praying that it would close up before Tom noticed. 

He reached down to feel his thigh, and when his hand came away stained slightly red, Harry quickly dropped his wand and sucked his fingers into his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare the dog after working so hard to get Tom to be more open with him. 

A fuzzy warmth beneath Harry's arms startled him out of his worry. 

It was Tom. He'd butted his head against Harry's non-wand hand, lifting his head to fit against the curve of Harry's fingers cautiously, almost guiltily. He seemed to be silently asking if Harry was all right. 

"Aw, it’s all right. I'm fine, see?" Harry said hastily, gesturing towards his now healed thigh to prove it.

Tom still looked a bit apologetic, and he tentatively nudged Harry's palm with the tip of his snout. He huffed into Harry's hand before swiping his rough tongue across the surface. 

Harry stared in amazement. Had Tom just willingly showed affection? 

Tom looked just as surprised as Harry. Harry even hadn't known it was possible for dogs to look _that_ disconcerted. He took advantage of Tom's shell-shocked state to wrap the big Doberman in a tight hug. 

"I can't believe you just did that!" Harry exclaimed delightedly into Tom’s thick fur. "Does that mean you like me?" 

Tom gave an emphatic shake of his head. 

"No need to remain in denial, you know. It’s perfectly fine to—”

Harry’s voice died in his throat. _Wait._ Had the dog just shaken his head at Harry?

Harry stared at Tom, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion.

"Tom?” Harry asked quietly. “Can you understand me?" 

The dog only cocked his head to the side in believable, canine confusion. 

"Tom?" 

Nope. Tom was the very picture of innocence, from head down to his primly-crossed paws. Maybe Harry _had_ imagined it.

"Godric, you're just like a person sometimes, you know that?" Harry remarked, peering over his glasses to side-eye the dog. 

Tom gracefully leapt onto the couch beside Harry and placed his head on Harry's lap. 

"I feel like if you _were_ a human, you'd be this really tall, smart asshole. You know, _that_ type of person." 

Was the dog smirking? 

_No,_ Harry shook his head at himself, laughing a little hysterically under his breath. Now he was just being _ridiculous._

But then again, if he wanted to play make-believe with his pet dog… Well, who was going to stop him?

"I don't know many people like that, come to think of it," Harry continued, stroking Tom’s flank. "Do you know why I named you Tom?" 

At this, the dog’s ears perked up. He didn’t react otherwise, but Harry didn’t miss the unmistakable interest in the beast’s sharp eyes. 

"It's because you remind me so much of a Tom I used to know. He was cryptic and terrifying.” Harry paused, his voice lowering. “And yet, there was something majestic about him, something about him that commanded respect.”

Harry stared at the wall, remembering the way Riddle would walk down the halls, drawing every pair of eyes in the room. 

Then, in afterthought, Harry murmured, “He also looked damn fine in a Hogwarts uniform.” 

Harry paid no attention to the rustling beside him, barely aware of the fact that Tom was sitting fully upright now. 

"You know, the Slytherins used to make fun of me. They used to say I was a just another blood-traitor Potter and a disgrace to the pureblood name. I hated that, so I got Dad to owl me a list of hexes and I used them all against the bigots." 

The dog put a paw on Harry's lap, pressing his body against Harry's. Tom's solid warmth was surprisingly comforting. 

"But apparently, Slytherins don't take well to having their pride wounded like that. I would've been cursed seven ways to Sunday if Tom Riddle hadn’t stepped in. Head Boy Riddle ruled Slytherin… and _all_ of Hogwarts. Stupid, handsome git had everyone under his thumb." 

If dogs could sneeze, that looked to be exactly what Tom was doing right now. But seeing as how Tom had been attentive enough this entire time, Harry continued.

"I thought he'd murder me himself. He instead indirectly applauded me for my bravery— can you imagine that? I mean, his actual words were, _you're lucky that your stupid brashness didn't land you a pureblood death sentence_ , but hey, focus on the silver lining. _Tom Riddle_ , the best-looking terror on campus, gave me indirect encouragement." 

Harry, finally done with ranting about Riddle, turned his full attention to Tom — only to witness his dog… 

Give another… dog sneeze?

Harry’s eyes widened incredulously. No. _No._ Perhaps it was his imagination, but the dog was… 

"Are you laughing at me?" Harry cried indignantly, flicking Tom on the snout in retribution. "I'm explaining how my long standing crush on the world's cutest guy began, and you just _laugh_ at me? See if I ever tell you anything again!" 

At this, Tom had the good grace to look somewhat apologetic. He pulled at Harry's arm with his paw, all while giving Harry a stellar pleading look. Harry couldn't resist such an imploring face. 

"Merlin. You sure know how to charm people, huh?" He said fondly, scratching the spot behind Tom’s ears the way he liked it. "You're really too good at this." 

"Who's too good at doing what?" came a female voice from behind them by the Floo. 

Harry yelped in surprise, his head turning towards the sound. He attempted to jump to his feet, but his criss-crossed legs made it so that he only knocked himself off the couch into a comical heap. 

Tom, meanwhile, had been startled into action by Harry's shout, and he was now lunging and barking furiously at the unexpected presence of none other than Ginevra Weasley. 

" _Merlin_ , what is wrong with this dog and wh _— ohmygod_ ! The thing's trying to bite me, and — _fucking hell, OW—_ back off, you nasty little—!" 

Harry dazedly observed Ginny shrieking and running around the living room with Tom barking at her heels. After making two rounds, she gave up and vaulted atop the kitchen counter, where she now stood quaking. Tom was still making leaping motions, but Harry had lived with Tom long enough to know that if Tom wanted to, he could've easily gotten onto the counter. 

"Ginny, relax, he's not going to bite you," Harry yelled over Ginny's terrified shouting. "I said, he's not going to bite y—" 

" _Yes it is_ !" She shrieked. "Look at it, it's gone _feral_ , someone please Stun the beast—" 

"He's just trying to scare you, you know, since I've seen him jump on the counter before. If he really meant to bite you, he would've done so already," Harry said in an attempt to reassure her. “It’s just his way of playing—”

This, however, backfired magnificently. Ginny seemed to only have heard the first part, and her screaming redoubled as she now tried to find even higher ground. The next thing Harry knew, she was clinging upside-down the dining room chandelier. 

" _For Merlin's sake_ —!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly. "Tom! Stop that! And Ginny, get down and _stop screaming_. You're going to wake Sirius's mum--" 

" _FILTHY MUDBLOODS, BLOOD-TRAITORS, HALF-BLOODS, AND VERMIN, DIRTYING THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK—"_

"Oh, _hell_ ," Harry mumbled tiredly. 

Between Tom's ferocious barking, Ginny's screaming, and Walburga's wailing, Harry could feel the beginnings of a roaring headache. If Ginny hadn't just decided to Floo by, this wouldn't have happened. Harry made a mental note to lock and ward the Flooplace to keep any other unexpected visitors out. 

It took nearly ten minutes for Harry to get the situation under control. Tom, that absolute bastard, immediately went from Possessed Mutt to Angelic Pet when Harry rounded on him. Harry was too busy calming Ginny to reprimand him further anyways. 

"Look, Ginny, if you'd just take a deep breath—" 

"No! That terror tried to _attack_ me!" She jabbed a finger angrily at Tom, who just sat there innocently. 

"Maybe if you hadn't dropped by unannounced--" 

"What was I supposed to do? You hadn't returned my owls for months on end. Hermione said you were ignoring me, but she’s wrong!" 

_Woops_ . Harry _had_ been ignoring Ginny since she'd repeatedly hinted about getting back together despite the fact that their relationship ended a year ago when Harry discovered he was very, very gay. 

(When Ginny acted like this, he sometimes wondered if she _turned_ him gay in the first place.)

"About that," Harry began nervously with a sheepish smile. "I, erm, I just needed some time to myself. So I haven't been ignoring you _per se_ , bu—" 

Ginny interrupted Harry by leaping onto him with a delighted cry. "Harry! I _knew_ you still cared about me!" 

Just then, Harry heard a very loud growl from where Tom stood behind them. 

_Uh oh_. 

He hastily extracted himself from Ginny's clutches to bend down and pet Tom reassuringly. Tom very slowly lowered his hackles, even if he was still glaring balefully at Ginny. 

"Ginny, I need you to listen for a minute," Harry said earnestly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I like you as a sister and all, but—" 

Loud growling again, this time followed by a sharp bark. 

Harry stared incredulously at Tom, whose teeth were bared as he glowered intently at them. Or, more specifically, at the spot where Harry placed his hand on Ginny. 

On instinct, Harry removed his hand from Ginny’s arm, and the dog stopped growling. He backed away from her, and Tom seemed to calm down a bit. 

_Interesting._

He hadn't foreseen this at all. He’d heard stories about dogs getting possessive over their owners… but, _Tom?_ Who knew Tom could get so… _attached_. 

"What is _up_ with you today?" Harry asked Tom in baffled amazement. 

~~~~~______~~~~______~~~~~ 

_Good question,_ Tom thought. 

He had surprised himself at the ferocity of his own response to the redhead's advances. Had he really been that bothered? 

_Yes. Definitely yes,_ some primal voice from deep within proclaimed. 

He was a little uneasy at just _how_ attached he'd become to the human disaster. This level of devotion was troublesome. Tom wanted to say that it was just the canine hormones, but he wasn't so sure about that now. 

He'd have to find a way to turn human, fast, or he'd become an adoring slave to Potter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smash like for more of tom's doggie possessiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, leave a comment or kudos ;)


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